


Speculations on the Thickness of Blood

by occlumence



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Andrew likes playing with knives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically the same character backgrounds, But they're now in a mob in Chicago, F/F, F/M, Gang Violence, Graphic Description, Kevin is still a small dick, M/M, Mob Boss!Andrew, Neil is Nathaniel but then he's not Nathaniel he's Nate, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Past Rape/Non-con, Probably happy ending, Riko is still a huge dick, Slow Burn, Violence, and Riko wants different things, andrew is still small period, he incidentally also likes playing with Neil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 23:50:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10261850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occlumence/pseuds/occlumence
Summary: Andrew Minyard doesn't like many people. He runs his quickly-growing criminal empire with cool detachment and kills with that same apathy.Nathaniel Wesninski doesn't like many people. He doesn't have time to like anybody on the run from his father's people, who would happily see him dead.So what happens when their paths cross in the mob-run city of Chicago?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited about this fic! I got this idea in my head a month or two ago and I could not stop thinking about it. Fair warning, if you didn't read through all the tags: this will be very violent, and due to circumstances of the AU, Andrew will likely be much less considerate of boundaries than he is in canon. He will honor them mostly, but he is a much darker character here. Anyways, enjoy!

To anybody who didn't know him, Andrew Joseph Minyard would seem like an angry dwarf with a cutting glare and a sick smile. He'd make you shiver, perhaps you'd look twice to make sure he wasn't going to hurt you, but he wouldn't leave anything with you other than a sense of wrongness.

To anybody who did know him, Andrew Joseph Minyard was a nuclear warhead with a never-ending vendetta against humanity. 

His smile, his suit and his knives were never anything other than a deadly sharp, and his gaze was one that nobody could break from. Those unlucky enough to meet him at the wrong place with the wrong people would find themselves missing limbs-- and even then, they were getting off easy. The wrong people they had been with wouldn't be alive to worry about a missing foot.

Even his “colleagues” were wary of him, knowing he had nothing against ruining his immaculate clothing if it meant he could make somebody bleed. Blood was like a direct link to Andrew’s life force, and lack of it only made him crave it more. It wasn't until you were at the receiving end of his knives that you truly understood why they called him the Bloodletter. He lured you in with soothing words and promises, and when you were vulnerable, he bled you out. It wasn't the most clever of names, but when a terrified shout echoes through the alleys of Chicago, there's no chance for revision. 

Everybody in the Windy City knew who he was, or at least the idea of him. You didn't want to know the Bloodletter personally-- even his accomplices only lasted for a few months. Whispers passed from between anonymous lips on subway cars, hands callused or smooth received warning notes. Within two days of the Bloodletter’s first kill, Chicago was a rubberband tensed to snap. Mothers held their children close to their sides, and teens never had their parties in outdoor spaces anymore, as if they thought it could really protect them from a man who could command the sky to fall if he so pleased. Everybody, even those who lived on pieces of cardboard, knew who the Bloodletter was. 

Everybody, that is, except Nathaniel Wesninski.


	2. The Rabbit and the Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make it as long as I possibly could as a way of saying sorry for the long-ass wait I put you all through, but it's still not as long as most. Sorry in advance.
> 
>  
> 
> In this chapter, everything kicks off. We meet Nate, we meet Andrew, we meet Nicky. A deal is made. A past is left behind. A secret isn't really a secret. Rabbit-based nicknames are used far too often for that Extra Annoying™ effect. 
> 
> Warning for some minor graphic imagery and use of knives, both fairly brief. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Fuck,” Nathaniel muttered under his breath, panting heavily. His chest felt like it would tear open at any second, but he didn't stop running. The soles of his feet were aching in a way that made him feel sure he was going to have bruises, and on top of everything, his stomach rumbled with hunger.

He just couldn't catch a fucking break, could he?

The squeal of tires on the road behind him put an extra spring in his step, and he clutched his duffel close to his side as he took a glance over his shoulder. The black car careened slightly to the left as it swung around the corner, and he turned at the same time into an alleyway, still watching the SUV even as he entered the narrow space. If not for the trash can sitting in the center of the alley, he might've run right onto a gleaming knife that was awaiting him. Instead, he tripped and fell gracelessly onto his ass.

For once in his life, Nathaniel didn't have a way to run. The car had gone past the alley in its speed, but it would be back soon enough-- and the option directly in front of him wasn't any more appealing. But said option did have a lovely pair of shoes, somehow out of place and yet perfectly normal in the alley where their owner stood. Nathaniel looked up and was met with narrowed golden eyes and a smile that made him scramble backwards as fast as he could. 

“And what do we have here?” the man asked in a smooth, calm voice, wiping blood off of his gleaming knife with what looked to be a silk handkerchief. That was even more unusual than the Italian leather shoes. “Little rabbit was making lots of noise. Where is the fox who was chasing him, I wonder?” 

He peered around, not seeming to be very concerned about said “fox”. Nathaniel kept quiet as his eyes fell upon a limp form behind the short man, the face an unrecognizable canvas of slashes and stabs. It looked like a sort of gruesome mural, all meticulously carved lines and trickling blood. Nathaniel scooted back a bit more.

“No no, you're staying right here,” the man said, a cold grin dancing across his lips as the hand not holding the knife smoothed back his effortless-yet-styled blonde hair. Nathaniel was frozen. His mum had always said to run, and he was fucking frozen. “Does the rabbit have a name?”

With two steps he was crouched in front of Nathaniel, the flat of the knife brushing against Nathaniel’s cheekbone in a sort of caress. He cocked an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an answer. The younger man’s breath sped up, and he forced out the first thing that came to his mind. “N-Nate.”

He immediately regretted spitting that out without any thought. It was far too close to his real name-- to his father’s name. He could feel his heartbeat stumble over itself in an effort to keep his body functional whilst his brain was practically on fire. He was trying desperately to keep the panic off his face as the car’s engine revved from somewhere close enough to be threatening. Both hands scratched at the alley’s floor in his anxiety. 

“Well, Nate, you seem to be in quite a predicament, don’t you?” the blonde said with a smirk, his eyes glinting just like his knife. He made a show of slowly tapping the knife’s tip gently against each of Nate’s cheekbones, his movements languid and relaxed. “What a shame it would be to see such a flighty flame snuffed in its prime.” Tutting as if genuinely disappointed, the man rose to a standing position, pausing in place as he mimed thinking deeply about something. “Unless, of course, he'd be willing to make a deal to stay safe and sound.”

Alarm bells immediately went off in Nate’s head. He had just met this man-- this man with nice shoes and impeccable clothing choice, this man with a smile that was a death sentence and a knife that would deliver the punishment. Yet a small voice in the back of his mind urged him to give this man a chance. It reminded him of the fate he would meet if he turned back, of the knives and the cruelty and the pain. Compared to Lola and Romero, this man’s face-- a face only a year or two older than his own-- seemed much more promising. “What do you want in return for my safety?”

That cutting grin grew even larger, and the man’s knife disappeared with a flick of the wrist and a blink of his golden eyes. He readjusted his lapel as he looked Nate up and down with a gaze that brought a shiver down the younger man’s spine, a gaze that lingered on his long legs before going back to his face. “You’re quite fast, little rabbit, and I’ve been looking for a runner. I will keep you safe if you promise to take up that job for me.”

Confusion wrinkled Nate’s brows, and he asked in bewilderment, “You want me to be a what?”

“I would’ve thought that the Butcher of Baltimore’s son would know what that was,” the man snorted in amusement, his good humor only growing as he watched the look of terror spread across Nate’s face. “Oh, relax. Would I be a real crime boss if I didn’t know about Nathaniel Wesninski, the runaway son of the biggest asshole on the east coast? Don’t worry, my little rabbit. Your secret is safe with me.”

Nate wasn’t so convinced. “I don’t understand. Why aren’t you jumping at the opportunity to hand me over? They’d give you money for me and you know it, since you’re clearly so knowledgeable.” He couldn’t help the bite of sarcasm that had slipped into his voice.

“Well, despite the fact that I’m clearly not as old as your father,” he gestured with a pale hand at his youthful face, “he and I have met on a few occasions, and I can’t say that we’re the best of friends.” He let out a small chuckle as his eyes grew far away, and he tapped his right bicep indicatively. “You know the scar your dear dad has right here? The knife wound? That’d be me.” 

Nate couldn’t close his mouth no matter how hard he tried. “You mean-- that you-- you managed-- what?” 

The man opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of tires screeching to a stop at Nate’s back made him stop. Another flick of the wrist had his knife back in his and, and he didn’t look back down at Nate as he spoke. “This is your last chance, Peter Cottontail. Yes or no?”

Nate steeled himself, glanced over his shoulder, and made up his mind. He took a deep breath and got to his feet, duffel pulled flush against his hip. “Yes.”

The angry sound of Lola’s voice faded quickly away as he ran after the blonde, crossing through alleys he never would’ve spotted on his own and running up fire escapes he’d never dare to climb had he not been playing follow-the-leader. After a steady few minutes of this, all of his fear faded away, and all the was left was wind burning his eyes and cooling his cheeks, and pale hair whipping around wildly. He hardly registered the sirens.

***

By the time the blonde man began to slow, Nate’s legs were burning from exertion. With all the frantic running through alleys the car chase had caused, followed near-instantly by the treacherous task of following his short acquaintance, he was just about ready to collapse. But when they reached the top of the final fire escape, he felt more awake than he had in years. He couldn't help the way his mouth fell open in awe.

The ceiling of the building was gone, exposing a huge bustle of people and stalls, all lit by cheap Edison bulbs hung on metal support beams. It looked like a dystopian marketplace, and yet for all its ruggedness, the floor was clean and so were the people. Each person looked like they had a place to be and a past that burned low and hot in their eyes. Not a single human Nate saw below him walked without a slump in their shoulders, but their heads were held high and their eyes were narrowed with determination as they walked around the gutted building. Nate looked down and saw himself everywhere.

His startled trance was broken quickly by a firm shove on his shoulder that almost sent him toppling off of the fire escape. He turned a glare to the short man beside him, who was grinning maliciously in his direction. “Has anybody ever told you that you emote far too much? Your traumatic past is practically seeping out of your orifices.”

Nate spluttered indignantly, stopping himself from responding when he had a sudden revelation. His lips turned down as he remarked, “I don't even know your name. I don't even know your name, and you're insulting me, and I've made a promise to you that I can't break.” His voice betrayed how much this fact troubled him. 

A snort escaped the blonde man’s mouth. His golden eyes glittered with amusement. “If it means so much to you, Thumper, my name is Andrew. Now, if you'll stop blubbering about unimportant things, I’d like to get both of us out of range of possible snipers.” 

Nate wasn't comfortable with how calm his voice sounded while saying such unnerving words. He grumbled, “Stop calling me by weird nicknames.”

“Oh, would you prefer Nathaniel?” Andrew responded innocently, blinking slowly and smiling a little too widely. Nate growled, barely managing to stop himself from pushing the blonde off the building. “Hurry up, before you start looking like a nice target to anybody with a decent vantage point.”

Nate didn't need to be asked twice. He trotted down the rickety stairs and into the space below, keeping his eyes open and aware of what was happening around him. Most eyes went right over him, but one man with tanned skin and carefully-arranged hair grinned in delight as he spotted Nate. The redhead felt uncomfortable immediately, and stumbled back a few steps as the man walked towards him. He bumped into Andrew, who shoved him away roughly, face blank. The other man didn't falter.

“Andrew, who's this? Did you bring me back a midnight snack?” His smile was almost wolfish, but it lacked malice. Nate shrank back all the same, looking over his shoulder to see if anybody else was standing nearby.

“He's talking about you, dumbass,” Andrew remarked flatly as he watched Nate’s movements. He turned a cold glare on the taller man, his lips a flat line. “Nicky, if you touch him, I will gut you.”

It took Nate a moment to realize that he hadn't spoken in English. It was German, in fact, and Nate struggled to keep his expression flat as they spoke. He went for a confused look, but suspected he might've looked like he had some sort of unusual bowel movements instead. The thought irritated him, but he kept quiet. 

Nicky threw his hands up, eyes growing wider as he backed a few steps away. “Okay, alright,” he responded in the same language, “I was just joking around.”

“No, you weren't,” Andrew stated, eyes narrowing even more. He gestured loosely to Nate. “He's going to be our new runner.”

Nicky’s face fell, and his eyes were sad. “Really, him? But you know what happened to our last one. We still can't find the rest of--”

“Hush, Nicky. Hush. He's fast. And he's not an idiot like she was.” He let out a snort, taking a cigarette out and lighting it on the way to his lips. Nate breathed in the smoke as it floated past him, taking comfort in the scent. “Besides, having this one on our side is a bite in the ass to somebody I'm not on the best terms with.” 

Nate couldn't figure out their relationship. Their facial features were almost completely different, but they shared the same sharp yet delicate nose. Cousins, he assumed. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, but can you speak in a language I understand?” Some real annoyance drifted into his voice, and he let it.

“Oh, little rabbit has some fire in his belly,” Andrew smirked, switching back to English immediately. Nate huffed indignantly, crossing his arms and widening his stance. Andrew snorted at his facial expression, bringing a hand up to brush his hair away from his eyes. Nate found his gaze following the movement before he forced it back to the other man’s vivid stare.

“What exactly am I meant to do now?” he questioned irritably, his eyebrows drawn and his lips in a scowl. Nicky’s face broke into a grin, eyes crinkling at the corners as he took a few steps toward Nate. 

“Andrew, can I get him a room? I'll find him some more...appropriate clothing.” The way Nicky’s eyes narrowed in distaste as he looked Nate up and down was somehow both insulting and unnerving. 

The blonde man nodded in acquiescence. “Make sure he gets some new shoes,” he paused, staring meaningfully at Nate’s head, “and maybe a haircut.”

He turned and was gone, leaving Nate with an uncomfortable look on his face, a self-conscious hand to the hair on his head, and a man who seemed far too happy to be alone with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize profusely for the severe lack of content since I first published this story. I got super caught up in ridiculous standardized tests and other exams and life sorta sucked a lot through March. But hey, I finally uploaded, so there's that. Hopefully I didn't let you all down. And again: I'm so sorry for being almost 2 months past my promised day for a new chapter. It's been nagging me but actually doing things is hard. Oops.
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments! Talk to me, I love hearing feedback. Thanks for reading x

**Author's Note:**

> I figured a little summary-prologue-thingy would do well for a start. Leave a comment, let me know what you think! Kudos are very much appreciated. I will try to update as much as I possibly can, and will most likely end up with a schedule at some point. Thank you for reading :)


End file.
